Things Are Not What They Seem
by V.M. Bell
Summary: Deceit and manipulation are storied traditions of the Black family, employed with equal dexterity by all, even by those who seek the truth.


**Things Are Not What They Seem**

The afternoon sun slants through the air as Sirius presses his hands harder against his ears and refocuses his attentions on the spider crawling above him. It is a delicate creature, all legs and blackness -- its limbs are still, he has noticed, for extended periods of time, grasping the rough surface of the wall as it deliberates, before extending a single leg forward as it resolves to continue. Deep within the recesses of his consciousness, he understands that there are few summer pursuits more meaningless than this, charting the aimless course of an insect, but, as far as he is concerned, it is infinitely more enjoyable than hearing Mother throw the whole of the weight of her fists against his door for perhaps the fiftieth time this morning -- or was that the fifty-first?

"Sirius, I demand that you open your door this instant! I will not ask you again."

She has been at it since dawn, he thinks, rolling his eyes, so the probability of her actually not asking again is virtually nonexistent. His bed is situated in the corner farthest from the door, but, even from there, he can practically hear her breathing in the hallway.

Mother bangs on the door again. "Sirius, open your door! Disobey Kreacher, if you insist -- "

"Yeah, I do insist," he fires back, "because Kreacher is a miserable little -- "

"You will not speak to me like that!"

"I don't care."

"Your aunt and cousins have been here since morning, and yet you -- oh, Sirius, can you even beginto imagine what my poor sister-in-law and her family must be going through?"

"Oh, yeah, I've _really_ been looking forward to seeing them. I mean, I always look forward it, every year, so it's a good thing that they're here, oh, _one month_ early."

There is a stretch of silence, and Sirius dares to wonder if Mother will finally relent to the overwhelming logic of his sarcasm and allow him to remain in his room for the duration of his cousins' stay. Of course, there is the matter of procuring food, but Sirius hardly thinks that would be a problem: he has his owl, after all, and James will be more than happy to aid him in subverting the Black family hierarchy by sending him secret food packages. Or he can always bully Regulus into sneaking him something from the kitchen, he thinks with a smile. And, besides, being deprived of sustenance is not such an uncommon occurrence for Sirius.

A resounding crack of wood, however, punctuates his fantasies. Mother, wand in hand, is now standing in the entryway of his bedroom. The lines on her forehead furrow even more deeply into her skin as her eyes widen at the sight of him, disheveled hair and rumpled clothing. Sirius suddenly remembers that he is only eleven years old, a mere child with no appreciable skills of his own, boyish posturing notwithstanding. When infused with the full breadth of her fury, Mother becomes a terrifying visage.

"I asked you many times," she says, advancing toward him, "to come downstairs as a courteous and upstanding young gentleman should. I asked you to do this of your own accord, but, like the petulant little boy you really are, you refused. Now, what is a mother to do but force him to _do as he is told_?"

Sirius can hardly offer a protest when she jabs her wand in his direction and he feels an invisible hand pulling vigorously on his ear. "Ow, Mum!" he howls, stumbling to his feet so as to avoid losing a vital body part. "For the love of Merlin, that hurts!"

He glances up to find a sneer pasted on Mother's face. "That is exactly the point, dear boy. If you don't mind, everybody is waiting for you."

And, with that, he is dragged out of his room and down the stairs and led into the sitting room. With a triumphant _hmph_, Mother tucks her wand back into her robes. Free of the enchantment, Sirius loses his balance and trips headfirst onto the carpet.

From above him, Mother speaks. "Sirius, why don't you get up and greet your family?"

"Right," he mutters to himself. He pushes himself up from the floor, gingerly dusting off his trousers as he surveys the many pairs of eyes directed toward him. "Father, Regulus," he begins, nodding in their direction, "good morning."

"Good morning, Sirius," they reply in unison, though Regulus's enunciation leaves something to be desired.

Then Sirius turns to the three females arranged on the other side of the room. They have not stirred since his most recent dramatic entrance in a history of dramatic entrances, but he is accustomed to such stoicism from his father's relations. The Blacks have always been gentile and reserved, attributes befitting of such storied lineage. Even when they are here in the midst of a bustling London, they do not stir unnecessarily and merely regard him with blank expressions. In spite of the day's warmth, a shiver runs the length of his spine; their serenity unnerves him.

"Aunt Druella, Cousin Bellatrix, Cousin Narcissa -- " He breaks off, gazing at the floor and finding himself suddenly flushed. "Aunt Druella Cousin Bellatrix, and Cousin Narcissa, I am very sorry for the trouble I've caused -- and the waiting. I'm sorry for making you wait."

"Your manners, Sirius," Mother says from the corner.

"What?"

"Apologize for your lack of manners."

"And I lack manners," he mumbles under his breath.

Smoothing her robes, Aunt Druella rises to her feet and inclines her head toward Sirius. "My dear nephew, while your impropriety is quite worrying, this has been a trying time for all of us. Walburga, perhaps you should be less harsh with your son. No doubt he is as upset as the rest of us."

Trying his hardest to hide a smile, Sirius sneaks a glance at Mother. If anyone else had said that about him, she would not have hesitated to correct that person, yet she does not dare to directly contradict any of Father's relatives. 12 Grimmauld Place may be her personal fiefdom, but it is the Black family name that commands respect.

"Yes, no doubt that is the case," Mother replies, adopting a half smile, half grimace.

Aunt Druella smiles. "Walburga, Sirius, please sit down. I imagine we have much to discuss."

As quickly as he can without appearing rude, Sirius squeezes himself into an empty spot on the sofa between Bellatrix and Narcissa. Per Black family tradition, the girls are wearing matching robes on the first day of their London summer visit. Ordinarily, they don bright colors, but, this year, their attire is a deep shade of blue that Sirius almost mistakes for black. Neither acknowledges his presence. Ignoring them, he leans back against the sofa, preparing himself for an afternoon of conversation to which he must play quiescent observer. It is all an excruciatingly dull affair, but when the adults are absorbed in their own matters, Bella and Cissy pretend to care about what is being discussed, and Regulus is too young to fully understand what is happening, Sirius is free to dream of happier things.

But seconds elapse, and nobody speaks. Some distance away, Sirius can hear Kreacher muttering to himself as he proceeds through the day's chores, but that is the only sound he can detect. He wonders why the adults do not initiate their usual rituals, airy and refined, but are instead eyeing one another.

A sudden sob escapes from Aunt Druella's mouth, which she immediately covers with her hands, and tears spring to her eyes. Sirius casts a quick look at Mother, and he is shocked to find her wearing an expression of genuine surprise: her sister-in-law's display of emotion has almost rendered her human. On either side of him, he can sense Bella and Cissy shifting uncomfortably as their mother begins to cry, great sounds of anguish drawn from her lips and into the summer heat.

A single sentence is distinguishable amidst the weeping: "I just can't believe that my Andromeda is gone."

--

Orion is already reclining against the pillows and reading a book when Walburga slips into their bedroom, one hand bearing a candle and the other guarding its flame.

"Are the children asleep?" Orion lays the book on his nightstand as she enters.

"Yes, they are."

"Bellatrix and Narcissa?"

"Also asleep."

"Good. It is important for them to rest."

"As it is for all of us. Shall we sleep, then, husband?"

"Indeed."

Walburga extinguishes the candles in the room with a wave of her wand before joining Orion under the covers. The two lie wordlessly next to one another, staring at the ceiling and listening to the crickets' nighttime song beyond their window, before she says what she has wanted to say since news of Andromeda's behavior reached her last week:

"Orion, I am worried about Sirius."

"Are you?"

"Very much so. More so than I have ever been, if I were to be entirely frank."

"Has he been having trouble at school?"

"Don't be so shortsighted," she snaps, tossing around in the bed until she is lying on her side and facing the wall, imperceptible in the darkness. "His marks at Hogwarts are hardly my greatest concern. No, what troubles me is something far more significant. I am worried, Orion, about Andromeda, but, before you tell me how we are all worried about this wayward niece of ours, let me make myself clear -- that she ran away with that Mudblood was for the best."

"You should not say things like that." The distress in her husband's voice is palpable, and Walburga almost laughs.

"Please, Orion, let us not pretend that she is a saint who has merely wandered, entirely by accident, onto the wrong path. I have had my suspicions about that girl ever since she started at Hogwarts. Every summer, I would watch her and wonder how and why it was she was becoming less and less like both of her sisters."

"It is possible that she will return, Walburga."

"You read Druella's letter, did you not? The girl did not merely disappear. She left a letter to her mother, her poor and infirm father, her loving sisters, and wrote that she despised the lot of them and would sooner die than continue living with them. It was then I understood at last: she has always been a corruption of our blood and good name and _must be removed_."

"How is this relevant to Sirius?"

"We agreed, you, Druella, and I, to not tell Sirius and Regulus the reason for her running away. I am not worried about Regulus, for he is too young to understand. But Sirius -- we have discussed Sirius before."

"Yes, we have."

Walburga inhales deeply, finding herself more filled with purpose than ever before. "We cannot let him be like Andromeda."

--

The next morning, Sirius wakes up late and, upon discovering as much, curses to himself, tumbles out of bed, and gropes around for his clothes. He is still straightening his shirt when he leaps from the stairs and onto the first floor landing, the entire frame of the house shaking with the impact.

"Sirius!" Mother yells from the kitchen. "Run around the house like that, and the Muggles next door will hear you, I swear it."

"Sorry, Mother!" he calls out, jogging to the kitchen, where Bella and Cissy are already eating their breakfast. " 'Morning, you two."

They do not respond, and Sirius rolls his eyes. _Girls_, he thinks. Evans would act like this sometimes when James would try to strike up a conversation with her, and her cold shoulder never failed to give Sirius an excuse to laugh at his glowering friend. Thinking of James jogging up to Evans at breakfast and invariably sporting the most tousled head of hair in human existence almost makes him laugh now, which he quickly suppresses as his two cousins look in his direction. Clearing his throat, Sirius hops off his chair and scurries over to Mother, who appears to be ladling his breakfast into a bowl.

"Good morning, Mother," he says, taking the meal into his hands.

"Good morning, Sirius. I would ask if you slept well last night, but, given the time, it seems that you slept a little too well."

Abashed, Sirius slinks back to his seat and devotes the whole of his attentions to his food. Bella and Cissy have already finished eating and merely sit there, watching him. From the corner of his eye, he watches them too. He cannot remember when they grew up, his three Black cousins, and he, in turn, was left stranded in childhood. That was when the summers grew lengthy in their tedium. Bella, for a long time, had been his favorite. She was not afraid of puddles, insects, or the red scratches on her knee when they would race one another up the tree in his backyard. Bella, though, is the oldest, endowed with a Hogwarts education before his had even begun, and she has immersed herself in things that Sirius cannot and does not dare to understand.

Cissy has always been different. In both appearance and temperament, she is not as bold as her sisters, and Sirius has always found her to be stiff and unkind in her interactions with him, yet he has never stopped hoping that she would like him. Dromeda always seemed to like him best (although, if he were to be honest with himself, he has never been certain about that), but Dromeda is gone now, he remembers.

"Cissy." Bella's low voice stirs him from his reverie, and he quickly occupies himself with his breakfast so as to avoid the appearance of eavesdropping. "We should go to Diagon Alley today."

"Excuse me?"

"You'll ask, of course?"

Cissy sighs. "Why do I always have to ask?"

Bella scoffs. "Do you really want to stay in this bloody house until Mum decides to stop crying every other minute and -- "

"Bella, please! I don't want to talk about Mother." The urgency in Cissy's voice intrigues Sirius, but he senses it is best to seem as oblivious as possible.

"You have to ask because Aunt Walburga likes you best. All you need to do is look at her with those pretty blue eyes of yours, and she would agree to anything."

"That's not entirely true," Cissy replies after a pause, but Sirius can sense that Bella's compliment has mollified her slightly. "One would think, though, that she would like _you_ more, Bella."

It is Bella's turn for silence. "I still think you should ask," she says again.

The girls are silent, and Sirius watches them regard one another. He wonders what they are saying to each other without speaking; they are sisters, after all, and no doubt very close.

Cissy sighs, running a hand through her hair. "Fine."

--

Narcissa is not stupid, and she hates it when other people think that she is. She especially hates it when Bella thinks that, simply because she was born four years earlier, she can do what she likes and Narcissa will remain none the wiser. But Narcissa is not stupid: she knows very well why Bella wants to go to Diagon Alley. There is a boy named Rodolphus Lestrange who lives in London. He is a strapping Slytherin in Bella's year, and, although Bella is all untouched purity to Mother, Narcissa is always awake when Bella tiptoes out of her room in the middle of the night.

Of course, that there is a boy involved is hardly worth the excitement -- Bella has been with boys for as long as Narcissa can remember. No, this boy is different for reasons about which she can only begin to speculate, but there are rumors at Hogwarts of gatherings, a movement that meets in shadows and seeks life in darkness, finding adherents in all parts of society united by a single purpose. Narcissa does not like to listen to these rumors -- she finds them distasteful and highly unpleasant -- but, as a Slytherin, she is privy to information that others are not. She does not comprehend it all, but she comprehends enough. She knows that there are matters in Diagon Alley this summer to which Bella must attend.

Nonetheless, at her sister's request, Narcissa finds herself looking for Aunt Walburga. After all, she would not _mind _going into the city. 12 Grimmauld Place seems to grow smaller with each passing year, and there is little worth to be in her younger cousins. For a fleeting instant, she wonders if fortune should be so kind to her to allow her to perhaps encounter a certain blond boy she herself has been eyeing -- they had made such progress and had even had their first long conversation a week before term ended -- but she shakes her head, as if the movement alone would dislodge the pleasant thoughts from her brain.

She finds Aunt Walburga in the sitting room, where she is reading the _Daily Prophet_. Uncle Orion is nowhere to be seen, but he has always found a way to make himself scarce.

"Narcissa, my dear niece," Aunt Walburga says with a smile, setting the newspaper aside. "Come, sit with me for a while." Narcissa does as she is told, smoothing her dress as she quickly assumes the sweetest demeanor she has in her arsenal. Before she can say anything about Diagon Alley, Aunt Walburga turns toward her. "Do you have a moment?"

"Of course."

"There is something very important that I must discuss with you, and I would rather you not repeat what I am about to tell you to anybody else. Can you promise me that you will not?"

Noting the solemnity etched upon her aunt's face, Narcissa nods fervently. "I won't tell anyone, I promise."

"It is about your sister Andromeda."

Narcissa nods, though, this time, with less enthusiasm. It has been two weeks since Dromeda ran away, leaving no trace of her existence but a spiteful note. Mother remains distraught, Bella contemptuous, but Narcissa still does not know what to think. Naturally, that her sister should have absconded with Ted Tonks, of all people -- Narcissa wrinkles her nose at the thought of that boyish-looking Hufflepuff -- is an abomination and an insult to her breeding and her family. But there are moments, still: moments in which she feels Dromeda's name on her tongue, only to tuck it away in an unknowable corner.

Aunt Walburga continues. "It is also about Sirius."

"Sirius?"

"Yes, Sirius. My dear Narcissa, it can be so very difficult for me to talk about this -- " Aunt Walburga's hands tremor as they reach for her niece's, and Narcissa, biting her lip, cradles them " -- but, for the sake of my son, I will have to try."

"What's the matter?"

"Ever since Andromeda ran away with that -- with that Muggle, I have been so afraid that your cousin -- my son, Narcissa, my _son_ -- will unknowingly end up a blood traitor like your sister."

It is a jarring statement, and Narcissa is not sure how to react. "Perhaps you are just -- perhaps you have just been affected by how shocking it was."

"Ah, but, you see, I have always been worried about Sirius. He can be quite a rebellious little boy, and I would not like Andromeda's behavior to, ah, validate any ideas that he might have."

Narcissa's eyes narrow. "So, does Sirius know that -- "

"No, he doesn't, and I cannot let him ever find out. For him, it will be enough to know that Andromeda did something she should not have and that such behavior will be properly punished. Imagine the state of this family if we were to produce not one but two blood traitors in a single generation!"

"Then what is it that you need me to do?" Narcissa asks, but she can already guess the responsibility that Aunt Walburga will place upon her.

"Watch Sirius this summer for me, if you can."

"Of course."

"Beyond that, however, I need you to engage him, Narcissa."

Narcissa wrinkles her nose. "What does that mean?"

"I understand that eleven year-old boys are not your usual company, especially not ones like my Sirius, but I would ask you to talk to him, spend time with him, and let him understand that it is his family that cares most for him in this world."

"Does Bella know any of this?"

"I spoke to Bellatrix last night in the hallway after you had gone to sleep. She knows not to speak of Andromeda to Sirius, but, beyond that, it is not her help that I seek: it is yours."

"Why not Bella's?"

Aunt Walburga waves a hand in the air. "Your sister is too emotional, too flighty -- too prone, you see, to be forgetful of her obligations. I trust that you would not make the same mistake."

Aunt Walburga appraises her with a pair of keen black eyes, and Narcissa is shaking her head as her aunt looks upon her with a kindly smile. "You are mature beyond your years, my dear Narcissa. It serves you well now, and it will serve you even better in the future."

"Thank you, Aunt Walburga." Narcissa looks away so that her aunt cannot see the effects that flattery has wrought upon her color of her cheeks. She wonders why this aunt of hers is so kind to her, whereas her own mother -- well, Mother had always devoted more time to Dromeda, working ceaselessly to maintain that daughter's loyalty, but how useless it all proved to be. Studying the floor, Narcissa abruptly remembers why she is here at all. "If I may, can I ask a favor of you?"

"Anything at all."

It is Narcissa's turn to capitalize upon the power of her gaze. "Bella and I have been so bored in the country, and I was wondering if we could have your permission to go to Diagon Alley today?"

"Bella can Apparate, can she not?"

"She got her license last year."

"Ah, I see. It is your safety for which I am concerned, and Apparition -- "

" -- is the safest form of travel," Narcissa finishes, as Mother asserts as much on a regular basis.

"Correct. Well, in that case, I cannot see why you should not be able to go to Diagon Alley."

"Thank you, Aunt Walburga," Narcissa says, rising to her feet. "I will tell Bella, then."

"If I might add a condition, though?" Aunt Walburga interjects before Narcissa can move so much as an inch. "Take Sirius with you. It will be a good distraction for the boy."

--

"_Diagon Alley_?"

Cissy is nonplussed as Sirius stares at her.

"Yes, Diagon Alley."

"Mother is letting us go to Diagon Alley? And without -- " Sirius pauses, fearful that, if he says it aloud, it will no longer be true " -- without adults?"

"Well, Bella is of age."

"But Mother would never let me go."

There is an upward tilt to Cissy's mouth. "Why do you think that your mother can't be nice to you?"

Sirius snorts. "Because Mother is never nice to me."

"I don't think that's true at all -- she is a little worried about your safety, but she trusts me and Bella to look after you. Hopefully, you actually do want to go?"

"Are you joking? James told me last week that they've got a new broom at Quality Quidditch Supplies -- top of the line and everything, and his parents got it for him, and he says it's _brilliant_," he finishes with a breathless grin. "When are we leaving?"

"Later this afternoon, I think -- three, maybe?"

"Yes!"

And, before Cissy can say any more, Sirius turns on his heel, scurries up the stairs, and, bounding into his room, flops down on the bed, practically in a swoon. Diagon Alley, he mouths silently, closing his eyes to imagine the storefronts, the crowds pressed against their windows, and he in the middle, relishing everything about it. Perhaps, he thinks, having his cousins around is not so bad after all.

Unable to lie still any longer, he gets up from the bed and picks up a quill lying on his desk, repeatedly dipping it into the inkwell. Droplets of ink shower the desk, but he does not notice. He scribbles a note:

_James,_

_Fortescue's, Diagon Alley. Three p.m. Don't reply to this, just be there._

_Sirius_

He slams the quill back down on the desk and strides over to his owl, her head tucked under her wing as she naps to the rhythm of her breathing. Sirius raps on the cage with his knuckles. Reluctantly, she stirs.

"Hey, Athena, wake up in there." He raps on the cage again. "Wake up!"

When she does, she reprimands him with a hoot, but Sirius's hands are trembling as he takes her out of the cage and holds the letter up to her beak. Accepting it, she awaits his command.

"It's for James," he says, walking over to her. "Fly as quickly as you can, and just -- just get it to him. It might be my only chance to see him this summer."

Athena gives him a nod, then, spreading her wings, soars into the wind and sunlight. Sirius watches her small owl body grow distant, and, when he looks down at his hands, they are gripping the windowsill.

--

Narcissa almost trips over Sirius as her feet land on the pavement, and, grabbing onto his frail shoulders for support, she thinks that her seventeenth birthday cannot arrive quickly enough. She ought to be thankful that she at least has a sister with an Apparition license, but Bella appears to have mastered the art of making Side-Along Apparition a thoroughly harrowing experience. Gingerly, she releases her younger cousin, who is now scowling in Bella's direction.

Bella, unfortunately, notices. "What are you looking at, Sirius?"

"Even my mother is better at Apparating than you."

"It gets the job done." Bella returns the scowl.

"Yeah, 'cept I'm pretty sure I almost lost my ears," he says, rubbing his earlobes. "Or maybe a bit of my nose."

"Look, if you insist on complaining -- "

"All right, please." Narcissa steps between them. "Bella, Sirius was just -- he's young, and he was simply joking with you. Can't we all just have a pleasant day in the city?"

Sirius shoves his hands into his pockets. "Well, I'm off to Fortescue's."

"Oh, an ice cream sundae sounds like a lovely idea!" Narcissa coos. "Why don't you lead the way?"

"I'd -- " Narcissa watches his eyes dart to the side, and it gives her a curious satisfaction to see his bluster deflate beneath the weight of her charm. "I was wondering if, um, you know, I could go by myself?"

"Ah, but where would the fun be in that?"

"You have no idea," he mutters under his breath.

Narcissa places a hand on his shoulder and adopts a more solemn tone. "Well, if you went alone, Sirius, it just wouldn't be safe, and what would your mother say about that? At the very least, there would be no more trips to Diagon Alley."

What Aunt Walburga would do is, of course, unknown to Narcissa, but what Narcissa _does _know is that Bella needs these excursions to Diagon Alley to become a regular occurrence. And Bella, she thinks, has never been denied anything that she has desired. It is a credible reward to dangle before Sirius, and her aunt will be pleased when she emerges as a consummate mentor to her fragile son. Sirius is weighing her statement with the furious deliberation of a child, but she recalls the gleam in his eyes when she first mentioned Diagon Alley to him.

"I guess you could come with me," he says at last.

Narcissa places a hand on his back and pushes him forward. He stumbles a few paces as she guides him through the crowd, but, if he wants to register a verbal protest with her, the surrounding din absorbs all possible dissent.

"Here we are!" Narcissa exclaims as they reach Fortescue's. "Shall we sit outside?"

"All right." He finds a chair at an unoccupied table, and Narcissa slides into the empty one across from him.

"Shall I order for us?"

Sirius shrugs. "I'll have chocolate, I guess."

"Mm, an excellent choice, but I think I still like vanilla best."

Narcissa gestures toward a waiter, who hurries over to take note of their order with the customary haste of an overworked employee in summertime. As the waiter departs, she returns her attentions to Sirius. He is slumped against the table, his head resting against the crook of his arm. Narcissa frowns, wondering if she has pushed him altogether too hard. She places a hand on his elbow, and he reacts immediately, sitting up.

"I -- I imagine you must find me bothersome, insisting that I come with you to Fortescue's," she says.

But Sirius disregards her remark. "Where did Bella go?"

"Bella has some important business to attend to."

"Really? What sort of business?"

She shrugs, doing so in complete truthfulness. "Bella is of age -- she worries about many more things than we do."

The waiter reappears, bearing the two requested sundaes and setting them down in front of their respective customers. Narcissa thanks him, while Sirius discards courtesy in favor of an aggressive attack upon his sundae.

"You see, Sirius," she continues, "I suppose I really must be quite selfish because I wanted to spend time with you today."

"That's new, isn't it?" He is holding his spoon in midair as he says this, raising his eyes to Narcissa's. It is then that she realizes just how similar Sirius is to Bella when conviction courses through him, and she struggles to maintain eye contact. "You never seemed to like me much before."

"Then I apologize if you've seen it that way. It is just that -- well, I only have two more years at Hogwarts, and then I doubt we would spend our summers in London any more. Perhaps -- perhaps Bella will be married, and maybe I will be too. There aren't many opportunities left for us, Sirius, to spend like this: simply as cousins."

"As cousins," he repeats.

"Precisely."

"And what's that supposed to mean, 'as cousins'?"

There should be an answer, pithy and light, that she should be able to summon at a thought's notice, but, as she opens her mouth, it dawns upon her that, to this challenge, she has no satisfactory response. Sirius has never left a particularly deep impression upon her memory. He was adequate companionship when she was younger, less aware of herself, but she does not think much of him now. Indeed, what does it mean, to siphon an implicit solidarity from the contents of one's veins? There was a time when she knew the answers, but, now, there is a doubt she cannot suppress. Sirius asks her what it means, to have faith in blood, and Narcissa wonders about Andromeda, wonders if, in the course of her heady rush toward liberation, she had ever asked herself that very question.

So Narcissa replies the only way she knows how and says, "It means that, no matter what happens, there is something that only we share, forever, and that doesn't change, Sirius. That doesn't ever change."

--

In between Cissy's endless questions about Gryffindor, first year, and Professor Slughorn's curious antics, Sirius, heretofore conscious only of the sun beating against his brow and the melted state of his sundae, notices a skinny boy with messy black hair striding toward him. He is walking quickly because he is late, because he suspects that his friend will rightfully give him trouble for his tardiness, and, yet, he is smiling. But Sirius catches James's glance and shakes his head, imperceptibly, before jerking it in the direction of the company already sitting across from him.

James's expression first fades to confusion, then to understanding, then to disappointment before turning around, a slump appearing in shoulders where there had been none before. Sirius sits on his hands, trying to remain still. Cissy drones on, and he must remind himself that there will be chances in the future to see James. But not today, not today, for his charade is not yet complete.

--

Walburga has no sooner rapped her knuckles on her son's door when she detects a rustling of paper and the slamming of a drawer. To her, this is sufficient cause to simply walk into Sirius's room without permission. She finds him seated at his desk, hunched over something.

"What are you doing?" She eyes the scroll of parchment partially obscured by his arm.

"What do you mean, what am I doing?"

Walburga shakes her head. This one is insufferable, she thinks. "Give it to me."

"I'm just working on an essay for Potions next year --"

But his excuse is cut short by her Summoning charm, and the incriminating evidence flies into her hand. She is surprised, though, to find a singular line of text scrawled at the top of the page. She looks at the words: _An Essay about the Proporties of _--

"My dear son," she sighs, returning the parchment to him. "I would check your spelling of the word _properties_."

"Oh, right. Didn't notice, sorry." Picking up his quill, he scratches out the offending word and replaces it with the correct one. He examines his work for a second, then sets the quill down and looks up at her.

"I spoke to Narcissa earlier this evening," Walburga says. "She told me that she and you went to Fortescue's together, is that correct?" Sirius nods. "And then she took you Gambol & Japes and you bought a, ah, another fake wand?"

Her son reaches into a shopping bag next to his chair and pulls out his purchase. "James got this for Christmas last year. He said it was the best fake wand he's ever seen."

Walburga crosses her arms. "I suppose I can accept a little diversion, although I shall have to speak to your cousin about this. Nonetheless, she told me that you were very well behaved today. I almost did not believe her, given your behavior at home thus far this summer."

"I like going to Diagon Alley," Sirius says, setting the wand aside.

She is too pleased with herself to resist a smile, which her son no doubts interprets as a sign of affection. She now knows that she has chosen correctly in trusting her youngest niece. "In that case, Sirius, I shall see to it that you and your cousins are able to visit Diagon Alley every week, if you would like."

--

"What did Aunt Walburga want with you?"

Narcissa does not look up from her novel. "Nothing in particular."

"Come off it, Cissy." Narcissa's mattress squeaks as Bella sits down at the foot of it. Sighing, Narcissa sets her book aside only to find her sister leering at her. "You can tell me anything."

"I told you, it wasn't anything important. She just asked me how the day went, if -- " _If Sirius showed any signs of restlessness or rebellion_, Aunt Walburga had asked, but Narcissa cannot tell Bella _that_. "What Sirius and I did -- you know, those things," she finishes.

"She didn't ask about me?"

"You're already of age. What you do -- I imagine that isn't our aunt's concern, is it?"

"Spoken truly, my little one."

"I hate it when you call me that."

Ignoring Narcissa's complaint, Bella sweeps her hair to one side. "Did Aunt Walburga say anything about being able to go back?"

"She did. She said we could go once every week."

"Oh, _Cissy_, you're brilliant -- "

"What are you doing in Diagon Alley that's so important anyway?" Bella is frozen, her mouth slightly parted as she searches for an answer, and, in that moment, Narcissa's suspicions are confirmed: Bella is up to something dangerous and likely illegal. "Well?"

Bella averts her eyes to the floor. "Cissy, I really didn't want to tell you -- "

"Bella, I am _sick_ of you treating me as if I were a -- a child who will do whatever you tell her to do! I don't care how much older you are. I am going to be starting my sixth year, and I am not _stupid_ -- "

"Don't speak so loudly, or you'll wake everybody up," Bella whispers urgently.

"Then tell me. I imagine it has something to do with Rodolphus Lestrange, doesn't it, or those -- those secret groups that I hear about at Hogwarts."

A pause. "If you must know, I was meeting with Lucius Malfoy." Thus, all thoughts of pureblood conspiracies disappear, and the simple act of that name spoken into the air elicits a gasp from Narcissa. Bella watches her reaction with a measure of amusement. "Sister knows best, it seems. I always thought that, well, you two…"

"It's nothing," Narcissa says, her pulse racing.

"You don't have to lie to me, dear."

"Bella, stop." But, of course, Narcissa does not want her to stop.

"He wants to meet you as soon as you're willing to. Next week, even."

"Next week…" Her voice trails off. "I don't know if I can meet him, though."

"Are you nervous?"

"No, no, it -- well, yes, I am nervous, but I have to…" Realizing what is about to say, though, Narcissa bites her lip and shakes her head. "I can't tell you. I promised Aunt Walburga that I wouldn't tell."

Bella lays a hand on Narcissa's knee. "Cissy, Cissy, Cissy -- I understand that you care for our aunt deeply, but we are sisters. Now that Andromeda is thankfully gone, we must rely even more heavily on one another."

At the mention of their absent sibling, Narcissa grimaces. "I just have to watch Sirius, that's all, and to make sure that he does not get himself into any trouble."

"Our baby of a cousin getting himself into trouble?" Bella snorts. "As if he were intelligent enough to do that. Aunt Walburga is full of shit, isn't she?"

Narcissa widens her eyes upon hearing the remark, but she still shakes her head. Bella exhales noticeably. "All right, then. Look after Sirius, if you must, but you can meet with Lucius for just a little bit, can't you? He _really_ likes you, Cissy, and you -- " Bella proffers a sympathetic smile " -- you've been fancying him for years, haven't you?"

--

When he is certain that Mother has gone to bed, Sirius pulls out James's letter.

_Sirius,_

_What in Merlin's name was going on today?_

_James_

It is late, and Sirius is tired, but he does not concede to exhaustion until he has sent a reply and threatened bodily harm against Athena unless she delivered it to him straightaway.

_James,_

_Mother's got my cousin Narcissa following me like a dog. Dunno why she's suddenly acting like I'm going to run away or something. I'm sorry about today, I really am, but I need to get away from Cissy, one way or another. I'll try to think of something._

_Sirius_

--

Narcissa follows her cousin from a distance, watching as he cranes his head upward to read the spines of books beyond his reach. The sense of purpose that she drew last week from watching over Sirius is suddenly absent. Aunt Walburga worries needlessly about him, for she has found the boy to be perfectly docile and rather unlike Dromeda, who had never ceased to be a headache for the entire family. In fact, Sirius had not even seemed that displeased when she informed him that they would be going to Flourish & Blotts (Aunt Walburga had quietly reprimanded her at breakfast for allowing him to visit the joke shop last week). What maturity, she thinks, pleased that her charge has proven to be this accommodating.

"Cissy!"

Looking around at the sound of her name, Narcissa finds Bella waving toward her, and her stomach turns unpleasantly. "Sirius," she calls out, and her cousin's head turns toward her. "I'm going to speak to Bella for a moment. You won't -- you won't run far, will you?"

"No."

"Good, then I'll be back shortly, I promise." Darting through the line of customers, Narcissa finds Bella by the door. "What is it?"

"Are you ready?"

"You mean, he wants to meet me now?"

Bella places a hand on Narcissa's shoulder and pivots her toward the storefront windows. Watching her with a bemused smile is Lucius Malfoy, and it is all Narcissa can do to not cease breathing altogether.

--

Sirius throws a quick glance over his shoulder. Bella and Cissy are standing outside the store, and, as he squints, he notices a tall blond man in their company. Sirius identifies him as Lucius Malfoy, blood relation and feared Slytherin Prefect. Lucius is smiling, and he reaches for Narcissa's hand before inclining his head and placing a kiss upon it. His cousin, it seems, will be preoccupied for some time to come. Noting this, he slips away to the back of Flourish & Blotts. He opens a door marked "READING ROOM" to find a middle-aged witch sitting at a desk, a book propped open before her. She studies him for a moment, as if it were at all odd that an eleven year-old boy should ostensibly wish to enjoy his summer in a studious manner, but she soon drops her gaze and allows him to continue on his way.

Sirius looks around the room, and, there, in the back corner, is a head of black hair too distinctive to miss. Sirius walks to the armchair where James is curled up, flipping through a glossy periodical adorned with preening blond witches.

"About time, Sirius," James says coolly, but he is unable to suppress a grin as he sets his magazine aside. "Tell me, how did you give your cousin the slip?"

Thus, they begin to converse. James remarks upon Narcissa's sudden attentiveness toward Sirius, to which Sirius can offer no satisfactory rationale ("If she wasn't your cousin, mate, I'd say that she's quite good-looking," his friend remarks). Sirius asks James about his summer, and his friend speaks in rapturous tones about his family's upcoming trip to Wizarding Paris in July.

"Paris! That's brilliant, James. I don't think anyone in my family has ever been outside Britain."

"Well, I know it's brilliant. Dad has some business in Paris, I think, so he'll be bringing me and Mum along too. Oh, I almost forget that you're invited. I asked Dad if you could come with us, and he said that you would be very welcomed."

"I would really love to, but, you know, my cousins are here for the summer."

"Come on, Sirius, don't your cousins visit every year? They can't possibly like you _that_ much."

"I know I see them every year, but this is year is different. I guess I forgot to tell you, but Andromeda -- she ran away from home a few days after term ended, and I think it's been really difficult on the family."

"She ran away? Why?"

"Dunno. She just sort of -- sort of disappeared, I guess."

"Really?" James drums his fingers against the armrest. "I'm quite sure I saw her today."

"You saw -- you saw Dromeda?"

"She's the one that looks like Bella, right, except with brown hair instead of black?"

"Yeah."

"Right, so I think I passed her as I was walking into Flourish & Blotts. I thought there was something strange about it because she was holding hands with someone -- oh, I'm pretty sure I know him too. Hufflepuff, same year as Andromeda's…" James rubs his face in his hands, and Sirius leans in, his head whirring with the burgeoning realization that perhaps things are not as they seem. "Got it! Ted Tonks. She was with Ted Tonks. Wait, Ted Tonks -- I'm not entirely certain, but he's a Muggleborn, isn't he?"

Sirius searches for an answer but finds that there is nothing he can say.

--

_They are strolling down a country road, arm in arm and talking of life, love, and their boundless futures together. Beyond the brim of her hat, Lucius laughs, a gentle rolling sound that trails into the sunlight, and he wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her close, skin breathing on skin --_

A sharp hiss of pain stirs Narcissa from her sleep. Around her, somebody is moving. She forces an eye open. Left arm outstretched, her other hand rubbing it, Bella is standing, silhouetted against the light. Narcissa raises her head slightly from the pillow, wondering if her sister has somehow injured herself, but, as she examines Bella's arm, all she can discern is an inky black pattern colored upon it.

"Bella?"

Her sister's arms immediately fall to her sides. "Yes?"

"Are you hurt? Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine, Cissy. You must have dreamt it."

Ah, yes, her dreams -- eager to return to them, Narcissa allows her head to return to the curve of her pillow. When Bella slips out of the room, a long black cloak obscuring her features, Narcissa is asleep again.

--

The quill and parchment have been sitting on his desk for days now, but Sirius does not touch them. He can only stare at them from a distance, pondering the contents of his would-be letter in his head. After all, what does one write to an estranged relative, determined to never again associate herself with her kin? There is much he still does not know, much that he is not sure he wants to know, but he thinks he knows this much: Dromeda is in London, or, if she is not, then she is somewhere close to London. She is with a boy named Ted Tonks now, who is significant simply because he is not a pureblood. And, if he is not a pureblood, then Aunt Druella would have never approved of their match. Therefore, the only way that Dromeda could be with this boy is if --

Is it possible, Sirius asks himself, arms wrapped around his knees as he stares at the darkened house of Muggle neighbors from his window alcove, that Dromeda was not simply a generic malcontent, as Mother had informed him, but that she left home and renounced her family for the sake of -- for the sake of something he can only vaguely comprehend as love?

Sirius slides out of the alcove and sits down at his desk for what must be the umpteenth time this evening. He picks up his quill, dips it in the inkwell, and positions it just above the parchment. Best, he thinks, to not to reveal the nature of his knowledge and speculation.

_Dear Dromeda,_

_Bella and Cissy are here in London for the summer, but you are not. I heard yesterday, though, that you were in Diagon Alley. I was in Diagon Alley too, and I go there every week now. Do you think that I could meet you, somewhere, at some time? I am at Diagon Alley on Wednesday afternoons. Please write back, if you can._

_Sirius_

Blowing lightly on the ink, Sirius regards his letter. There is something missing, so he picks up his quill and adds something at the bottom.

_P.S. I miss you, Dromeda._

He summons Athena, now accustomed to bearing her master's nighttime missives, and sends her into the night. His eyes linger on the path of her flight, and he is suddenly worried that she may not be able to find Dromeda. Not knowing where to reach the latter, he had not given Athena an address, and he wonders what would happen if his owl never found his recipient. But he wills himself to remain calm. His owl has never failed to deliver any letter, no matter how imprecise his directions. He must trust her.

Yawning, Sirius stretches and throws a glance at the clock. Two in the morning, he thinks with a muted surprise before crawling into bed and promptly falling asleep.

An insistent rapping on his window wakes him in the morning. Barely conscious, he nonetheless implicitly identifies the origin of the sound as Athena, and, if she is back, then that must mean the letter has been delivered.

Sirius runs to the window and pulls it open. Athena soars into the room, circling it a few times, before settling back in her cage.

"You've got something for me?" he asks her, bending down to peer at her at eye level.

Hooting softly, she extends her leg, to which a folded square of parchment has been tied. The knot is strangely unyielding, but, a few minutes of nimble tugging later, the square of parchment falls into his hand. He unfolds it and quickly skims its contents.

_Sirius,_

_Do you have __any__ idea at all, how dangerous it is for you to be writing to me? I imagine my name is no longer in good standing with our family, and I do not blame them. But your mother will kill you -- kill us both, if she cared to find me, which she does not -- if she hears that you have been in contact with me, even if that contact only amounts to a single short letter._

_I must compliment you on your choice of owl, though. What a racket she made just now, trying to get into my and Ted's room in the dead of night. She is currently perched on my desk, watching me write this. I wouldn't be surprised if she could read this as well._

_Well, you heard that I was in Diagon Alley yesterday. Who told you this? Yes, I was in Diagon Alley, and it was only a matter of time, I suppose, before somebody in this family spotted me. Had it been one of my sisters, my mother, or your parents, I am certain that I would have been relegated to the surrounding scenery. A blood traitor, they would think, does not deserve our attentions. But you wrote to me, and you want to meet me._

_Two things that I must say to you, cousin: (1) This is an utterly foolish idea, and (2) please think to yourself, if only for a second, what would become of you if anyone -- Bella, Cissy, your mother -- discovered the two of us in conversation. The punishment given to a blood traitor is harsh, and I would imagine that the punishment given to a family member caught consorting with one would not be much more lenient. Please think carefully and thoroughly -- do you __really__ want to see me?_

_If the answer is no, do not feel obligated to reply to this note. If the answer is yes, then I will coincidentally be at the Three Vampires in Knockturn Alley next Wednedsay. Yes, that's right, Knockturn Alley. The likelihood of anyone recognizing us will be lower there. Poor Sirius, I can imagine your mouth dropping as you read this, but don't worry -- you're a Black and will fit right in._

_Andromeda_

_P.S. Be discreet while you are in Knockturn Alley. You'll know how to spot me._

_P.P.S. Oh, all right -- I miss you too._

--

"Narcissa?" At the sound of Aunt Walburga's voice, Narcissa sets the _Daily Prophet_ aside. Her aunt is standing in front of her, a narrow black box in her hands. "There is something I would like to give to you."

"What is it?"

Aunt Walburga steps closer. "It is a surprise. I want you to close your eyes."

Narcissa is skeptical, for she was not aware that her Black relatives placed much stock in spontaneity, but there is never a need to disobey Aunt Walburga. Clearing her throat, she does as she is told but continues to listen carefully to her aunt's movements: the scrap of cardboard against cardboard as the box is opened, the slinking of metal flittering past her ears as it settles around her neck, and, gasping, she raises her hand to touch it, the silver chilled against her skin.

"Open your eyes," her aunt says.

She does. Aunt Walburga is holding a mirror before her, and, open-mouthed, Narcissa caresses the necklace. Her fingers trace the twists in the silver, winding and sinuous, until they land on a dark ruby set against the hollow of her throat.

"My mother gave it to me as my grandmother had given it to her. Cursed as I am with sons, I am giving it to you instead."

"Aunt Walburga, I couldn't -- I can't accept this. It doesn't belong to me. You should give it to Sirius, and, when he marries, he can give it to his wife."

Her aunt pays no need to her suggestion. "I know this summer has been difficult for you, especially with Druella in the state that she is in. Blood traitor or not, Andromeda was her daughter, but the loss is -- it has been overwhelming."

Narcissa sniffles. "Do you think that she -- well, we would have come to London anyway, but do you think that she brought us here earlier so that -- so that she would not have look at me and Bella and think that there was someone missing?"

"Narcissa," she says, placing a hand under Narcissa's chin and lifting her gaze, "you must know that I think about you as if you were my child."

And Narcissa, paralyzed, can only fall into her aunt's embrace.

--

"Sirius, you're awfully restless today, aren't you?"

"Sorry?"

"I said, you're awfully restless today."

Sirius buries his hands more deeply into his pockets and continues burrowing through the crowds in Diagon Alley. His eyes dart from one side of the street to another, as if, miraculously, he could find an eleven-year-old boy-sized hole through which to escape. Of course, he is rather restless today: for him, it is by far the most important day of perhaps the entire summer, and, still, he has no plan, no sleight of hand that might trick Cissy into believing that he is still at her side when he is not. The afternoon wears on and shadows lengthen; there must be a way.

Instead, he slows his pace down until he is walking alongside her. If he cannot slip away, then, at least, he can draw her attention away from himself. "Where did you get that from?" he asks innocuously.

"What?"

"That necklace. Isn't it from the cabinet that Mother has, with all of the Black heirlooms in it?"

"Is it? I'm not sure, but your mother did give it to me." Sirius makes a noncommittal noise. Cissy, wearing a concerned look, stops and pulls him aside. "Is something the matter?"

Truthfully, nothing is the matter. Sirius has never cared for Mother's precious treasures, polished to perfection by Kreacher on a daily basis, but dissembling is too easy. Silently, he allows his frown to deepen.

"Oh, Sirius," Cissy says breathlessly, laying a hand upon his shoulder, "I didn't mean to upset you. Oh, I'm so sorry -- maybe I should give it back to her, do you think? Would that make you feel better?"

Sirius turns toward Cissy, her expression quivering with concern, and he begins to suspect that something is amiss. Perhaps it is only natural that Cissy would have interpreted his words as an indication that he resented being overlooked in favor of his cousin, but he has not said a single thing of import. He had merely asked her where she obtained a particular piece of jewelry, a question that should not have provoked such a reaction.

As he studies her, though, he begins to suspect that something has been amiss all along. Why should Cissy have taken such care to be attentive toward him when they had long ceased to matter to one another? Perhaps she is trying to make up for Dromeda's absence -- but he shakes his head, recalling that, when he greeted her for the first time this summer, she had responded with apathy? How is it that she, aloofness epitomized, managed to completely alter her behavior toward him within only a few weeks?

"Sirius?" she prompts, giving him a small shake.

But he pushes her hand away and steps back. "Cissy, I don't know what you've been playing at this whole time, but I'll see you later, okay?"

Not bothering to wait for a response, he dashes into the stream of pedestrians, his head swiveling about as he searches for a sign that will direct him to Knockturn Alley. Behind him, he hears Cissy calling his name, her dulcet tones crackling with desperation, and, for the first time since he and James populated the Slytherin common room with singing chickens on the night before exams began, Sirius feels free and unshackled, submitting himself to the glare of sunlight and the still summer air tugging at his hair.

Slowing down, he veers toward a narrow offshoot of Diagon Alley. He pauses at the intersection, placing a hand against a nearby wall as he catches his breath. Still panting, he tilts his head upward, surveying the rooftops of the buildings that line the path before him. It is much quieter here. At this far end of Diagon Alley, there are few shops, and, as he peers down the crooked alleyway, he can detect no sound, no movement, no proof that human life has ever graced this part of the earth.

Steeling his shoulders, he begins his walk down Knockturn Alley, staying as close to the curb as possible. The buildings on either side of him seem to arch inward, creaking as their shadows converge into one. Their windows are shuttered, and the sweat on the back of his neck prickles uncomfortably, but he has already agreed to Dromeda's proposition. He must see her.

"Who are you?"

He almost yelps at the sound of the question and plunges his hand into his pocket, searching for his wand, only to remember a second later that underage wizards are not allowed to perform magic. He looks up: a woman dressed in black robes is standing by her front door, a striped tabby cat resting in her arms.

"I'm -- I'm Sirius Black," he says.

" 'Black'?" she repeats. Sirius nods earnestly, never so happy to have been born to his parents. "Then are you welcome here."

"Great. Um, I'm looking for a place -- the Three Vampires?"

"That way." She gestures toward an indeterminate point farther down the road. "In the square."

Staring at the ground, Sirius hurries away as quickly as he can, thankful to have survived that encounter. After a few minutes of walking, the road widens, merging, as the witch had told him, into a central square. It is livelier here, but the fountain in the middle of the square does not work. Other people pass him by, travelling in small groups, but nobody speaks very much, and he wonders why Knockturn Alley is infested with secrets. He should not be surprised. Sirius remembers that he used to accompany Mother when she came here with unexplained errands or to meet with undisclosed people, but that was many years ago, and there is a reason he has never returned to Knockturn Alley of his own volition.

He does not have to look far to find the Three Vampires. It is the only prominent café in the square, and the tables outside are almost entirely filled with customers, many of them sipping a drink that looks suspiciously like blood or some other comparable liquid. Wrinkling his nose somewhat, he edges toward the café, wondering how Dromeda might be found. _You'll know how to spot me_, she had written, but, as his eyes scan the Three Vampires' clientele, he realizes that he actually doesn't.

Then his eyes catch something. A witch is sitting alone at the table farthest from the café's entrance. She is holding a newspaper and turns the pages with measured slowness, but that is not what draws his attention. Her wand is tucked behind her ear, and, instantly, Sirius recalls the time when Dromeda walked into 12 Grimmauld Place many summers ago, wand balanced precariously against her earlobe, only to be welcomed by her aunt's scolding -- Andromeda, Mother had gasped, you cannot carry your wand around! That is a serious breach of Wizarding law! But Dromeda did not relent, insisting that she knew very well that she was not allowed to use and was not planning to use it. Rather, she simply liked keeping it with her, and, if her mother let her lounge around the house with it, then Aunt Walburga had little say in the matter.

Somehow, something as utterly inconsequential as this blossomed into what Sirius still believes was the most protracted argument Mother has ever had with a member of the Black family. Mother and Dromeda constantly sniped at each other for a few more days, but, among the children, the idea of tucking one's wand behind one's year invariably transformed into a joke that accompanied them through the remainder of the summer.

"Nice wand," Sirius says quietly, approaching Dromeda, and she lowers her paper, eyeing him. "Sorry it took me so long to get here. Cissy was being annoying."

She reaches for her wand and twirls it in her fingers before setting it down on the table. "Well, I suppose I can talk to you, then, since you passed my test."

"It was a test?"

"If you hadn't recognized me, then we would hardly be talking to one another right now, would we?"

Realizing that his cousin is jesting with him, he smiles, suddenly feeling the color rise to his cheeks. He has succeeded, he thinks, in finding her -- Dromeda nods at the empty chair across from her, and he sits down -- but what is he to do now?

Fortunately, she is first to speak. "So, let me guess -- you wanted to know about Ted."

"What I still don't know -- well, I don't know if it is important at all…"

"Just speak plainly. You can't offend me, Sirius." Crossing her arms, Dromeda reclines against the back of her chair. Her words are tipped with a bitter sarcasm. "You can't possibly offend me, really. I'm not part of the family any more. Call me a blood traitor or a Muggle lover all you'd like or tell me how all of my offspring will be brats of impure blood -- "

"I don't want to call you any of that," Sirius says, placing his fists on the table and learning forward. "I just -- I just want to know why you left."

Dromeda raises an eyebrow. "I wasn't clear enough in my note?"

"Your -- your note?"

"Yes, my note. I left it by the stove for Mother and my sisters to find in the morning. Surely they, er, told you about it?" Even as she is asking the question, however, her frown deepens, and Sirius does not even dare to dream about how incendiary the note must have been for his relations to not mention it at all. "Oh, those _bastards_. Don't tell me they never mentioned the note to you?"

Sirius shakes his head.

Dromeda swears loudly to herself, causing some customers to peer at their table with some concern. Sirius opens his mouth to say something, but she cuts him off. "Haven't you wondered why I ran away?"

"Of course I have," he replies, slightly hurt that she would believe that he would not spare a thought for her absence.

"What did they tell you about it, hmm?"

"Just that one day you disappeared without any explanation and, now, Aunt Druella cries all of the time."

"And you believed this?"

Sirius mulls over his response, an unpleasant gurgling sensation rising within his stomach. When Dromeda infuses the question with such contempt, he cannot help but think that he was stupid to have trusted that Mother had been honest with him, and, yet, Mother is still his mother.

"I did because -- because I never thought that you would run away," he finally stammers, "and, even if you did have a reason for running away, what would be the point of telling your family if you're never going to return?"

Dromeda shrugs. "I suppose I could have left without telling them why. Actually, Ted suggested that I do that. Best to leave a door open for future reconciliation, he said. Bollocks, _I_ said. Sirius, I didn't simply wake up in the morning and think to myself, 'Oh, I've nothing to do, why don't I just leave my family forever?' Frankly, I had been considering it for years. It was only after I came of age and Ted and I had secured a place to live together that I could go through with it."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"And, er, who's Ted?"

Dromeda smiles, and Sirius cannot help but note that her face has turned a subtle shade of pink. "We're going to be married at the end of the year."

"So, you ran away to marry him?"

"That was one benefit of it, yes. Ted is a Muggleborn, and you know that our family would have never approved of the match. But there is something much larger at work, Sirius, and that something is why I ran away. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"No."

"Oh, why I am even bothering to do this? Perhaps you already know some of what I am about to tell you, but, just remember, you were the one who wanted to talk to me." Dromeda pauses, sighing into the silence, and Sirius leans forward, waiting for her to begin. "I suppose you've always known that our family and other families like ours have been -- shall we say -- obsessed with maintaining the purity of our bloodlines. If you're up to scratch on your Wizarding demography, you would know that pureblood families have been having fewer and fewer children over the last century or so. This, in addition to their insistence that all marriages be kept within those who were pure of blood…Sirius, what my mother never told me and what yours will never tell you is that we're dying -- very slowly, yes, but dying all the same.

"Not all is so gloomy, though. More and more wizards are beginning to understand that we simply can't -- " Dromeda abruptly sits up and begins to gesture forcefully with her hands. Sirius glances at the people around him and wonders if these are the sorts of things that his cousin should be saying in front of them. "We simply can't be that _insular_. Just because some raggedy piece of tapestry says that we're 'noble' and 'ancient' doesn't mean that we've any right to think that we're somehow better than everyone else. The fact that there are children without a trace of Wizarding ancestry to them who are still born with magic, just like us -- shouldn't that demonstrate how utterly ordinary it really is?"

Sirius nods, remembering that Evans had been the first one in their year to correctly cast a Levitation Charm (though, largely, he remembers the look of outright amazement on James's face and his new friend insisting to him after class that he was going ask that girl out, or else his years at Hogwarts will have been a complete failure). This particular recollection causes him to grin, and he opens his mouth, prepared to share it with Dromeda, but the determination that had possessed her just moments before is gone. She is solemn again.

"You're so young, Sirius. I don't know how much I should be telling you -- you shouldn't have to grow up like this, knowing that your world is going to change."

"It's -- it's going to change?" he ventures.

"Ted told me about something once. The Muggles call it physics, and it's supposed to describe how the world works because they don't have magic to make it work for you. He tried explaining something to me -- it was a law of some sort, and the law said that every action has a reaction. It means that, if you push against something, that something will push right back."

"I don't understand. What does that have to do with the world changing?"

"We've been pushing, Sirius, us purebloods with our somewhat saner minds. The old ways of only associating with our own kind, of only having families with our own kind -- they can't be sustained. But some people don't believe that -- "

" -- and they're pushing back," Sirius says, finishing her thoughts.

"They are, and I am certain that our lovely family will be a part of it." Dromeda stops speaking for a while to contemplate her nails. "So, you said you had to escape Cissy to get here?"

"She's been acting strange all summer."

"Stranger than usual, you mean?"

"Well, she started spending time with me again. When I'm in my room at home, she'll knock on the door sometimes just to ask me what I'm doing, and, every time we come to Diagon Alley, she hardly ever leaves me, except to meet with Lucius Malfoy."

She scoffs impatiently at him. "Sirius, listen, I know Cissy better than anybody else. Bella always thought of herself as being too important to look after our younger sister, which left me in charge of that. Did you ever think for an instant that Cissy was acting that way entirely of her own free will?"

Sirius shakes his head slowly.

"Now, I am merely guessing, but my mere guess is this: they don't want you to stray from their path. They don't want you to end up like me."

"Why -- why wouldn't I want to end up like you?"

"Because, Sirius," Dromeda says, appraising him with a sympathetic look, "if you were to end up like me, you too would be a blood traitor of the worst kind."

And, in the wake of the pronouncement, Sirius finds that there is nothing he can say. Dromenda's words have saturated his thoughts, and it will be some time, he thinks, before he can untangle them and lay them out in careful and reasoned lines.

"Well, then," she says after a time, "have we talked enough?"

"You still haven't really said why you left."

As she begins to respond, however, Sirius hears his name ringing distantly through the air. For the briefest of seconds, he can see that Dromeda too is startled, but she collects herself quickly, and, bending over the table, begins whispering rapidly.

"They're looking for you, Sirius. I have to go."

"Can't you tell me why you left?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, you can guess, can't you?"

"I want -- I want you to say it."

Sirius watches his reflection in Dromeda's eyes.

"One day you'll understand: I just couldn't stand it anymore."

He has not even processed the statement when it seems as if a sudden gust of wind replaces where his cousin has been sitting. Instinctively, he shuts his eyes, and, when he next looks at her chair, he finds that all evidence of her presence has disappeared.

"Sirius! Oh, Sirius, there you are!" Hoping that there is nothing incriminating about his expression, he turns around and waves at Cissy, who is running across the square and followed by Bella, an unknown dark-haired man, and Lucius Malfoy. Why the men are here, Sirius does not know, nor does he have any desire to know. "Don't you ever run off like that again!" Cissy scolds as she marches up to his side, hands on her hips. "You gave all of us such a fright."

Suppressing the desire to reply with sarcasm, he forces himself to smile sheepishly. "Sorry, Cissy, it was just that I wanted to go to Knockturn Alley, but I didn't know if you would let me."

"Well, it is a very dangerous place -- " Cissy begins to say, but Bella interrupts.

"Nothing wrong with our Sirius wanting to visit Knockturn Alley," she proclaims, her mouth playing with a sly grin. "Don't you think so, Rodolphus?"

Returning the grin, the dark-haired man nods curtly at Bella. In the meanwhile, Lucius gives Sirius a gentle clap on the back. "My dear little Black cousin, you made dear Narcissa here quite worried, you know."

His heart still hammering, Sirius nods gravely. "I'm sorry, I really am."

"It's settled then," Lucius says. "Shall we go? I've always disliked this square -- there was always something terribly plebeian about it."

Rodolphus offers a witticism in response, eliciting appreciative laughter from the others, and Sirius is being ushered from his seat and down some unknown street. He lingers near the back, still pondering Dromeda's last words to him, when somebody taps him on the shoulder. He looks up: it is Bella, and there is no sign of levity about her features.

"You were talking to somebody back there, weren't you?"

"I wasn't," Sirius says, taking deep pains to keep his voice level.

Bella's eyes narrow. "I think you're lying."

"I'm not. Who would I have been talking to, anyway?"

To this, his cousin can muster no response.

--

"Narcissa, Narcissa, Narcissa…" Shaking her head, Aunt Walburga sits down on the edge of the sofa. Narcissa watches from a careful distance as the older woman cradles her head in her hands, her shoulders rising and falling with a sigh. She wonders, for an instant, if she should comfort her aunt, who appears quite distraught, but, before Narcissa can extend a hand, Aunt Walburga sits upright, a deep crease between her eyebrows. "Well, I suppose this is what happens when I entrust an adult's responsibility to a fifteen year-old girl."

"Aunt Walburga," Narcissa says, trying to control the tremor in her voice, "I told you -- I'm very, very sorry that this happened, but he just -- he just ran off, and I couldn't catch him."

"Now, where did you say you found him?"

"Bella and I found him a while later in Knockturn Alley."

"Knockturn Alley? And where in Knocturn Alley was he?"

"The Three Vampires."

"Was he with anybody?"

"Well, see…"

"See what, you foolish girl?" Aunt Walburga snaps, and Narcissa cringes.

"It was strange. He was sitting there alone, but, even though he was at a café, he had not ordered anything to eat or drink. It seemed as if he had been there for a long time, simply -- simply sitting there."

Aunt Walburga regards her with scowl. "So, he ran off to Knockturn Alley, my little Sirius. Out of the many places he could have gone, Knockturn Alley is hardly the worst."

"I agree, Aunt Walburga," Narcissa adds with a nod.

"Is there anything else that happened of which I should be aware?"

It should have been easy for Narcissa to smile and shake her head, thus bringing to an end this horribly mortifying affair, but, while she weighs the merits of obfuscation, she knows that she has lost her opportunity to do so. Aunt Walburga is watching her, and, even though Bella has ensured Narcissa that her suspicions are unfounded, she knows that she must atone for the day's failure somehow. She must relay the whole of her observations to Aunt Walburga. Maybe they are erroneous, but, if nothing else, perhaps there is a part of her pride that may yet be salvaged.

"There was something else, maybe, although I -- I can't be certain. It was only for a moment, but I thought I saw him talking to someone."

Narcissa tries to return to that moment: her frantic calls of _Sirius!_ and the far table at the Three Vampires, the unspeakable relief upon spotting him and the immeasurable shock as she notices someone sitting across from him, the brief, hardly conscious recognition of a face that she would have known anywhere in this world before it disappeared into nothing.

"I think it was Andromeda," she whispers.

"Are you sure?"

Narcissa begins to nod her head, but she shakes it instead. "I can't be entirely sure. I could have imagined it, and Bella said that she didn't see anyone."

"But you thought it was Andromeda."

"I -- I think -- yes."

Upon this revelation, Narcissa expects from Aunt Walburga an outburst, perhaps, or at least a few broken family heirlooms. But she remains still. "My, what a problem we have here. Whatever am I going to do with this boy?"

"If I could -- if I could say something?"

"Yes, of course." Aunt Walburga waves a hand about absentmindedly.

"If that person was Andromeda, I'm not sure how they met or why they were meeting, but I think he has already been punished enough."

Aunt Walburga does not answer; instead, together, they listen to the muted thuds of objects being thrown against walls on the floor above them.

--

Everyone is gathered in Mother's study, exhibiting nothing more and nothing less than unhurried patience, but Sirius cannot sit still. The morning marked the first time he had eaten in three days, and his stomach is now protesting the volume of food that he has just forced into it. Belching loudly, he messages his belly. From across the room, Bella rolls her eyes at him, and Cissy is determinedly looking at anything else that is not him.

Soon, Mother walks in, a wand in her outstretched hand. She marches up to her desk, breathlessly, peering into the tapestry that hangs above it, before she turns around and faces them.

"What I am about to do should have been done a long time ago, but I suppose I was waiting for -- " Mother looks directly at Sirius, and he raises his eyebrows, mimicking cluelessness " -- the opportune moment. This tapestry is one of the Black family's most treasured possessions, preserved and passed down for centuries. It is a testament to our family's lineage and purity. Indeed, to tamper with the tapestry is considered a grave crime against the blood."

Mother allows the weight of her statements to exercise their intended dramatic effect upon the audience, but Sirius does not care for such theatrics. He only wants to return to the kitchen in search of more food, although, inwardly, he wonders why his body has not yet grown accustomed to Mother locking him up in his room for days on end every time he irritates her just a little too much.

"But, in the end, a tapestry is only a tapestry," Mother continues, "and there are greater crimes that one can commit in this world. Our formerly beloved Andromeda Black committed one such crime in abandoning her family, and, consequently, any trace of her presence in our midst is no longer welcome."

Her pronouncements concluded, Mother places the tip of her wand at the top of the tapestry, where golden threads begin their meticulous cascade through the centuries, and she follows them, down, down, down, until, at one point near the bottom, they split into three. Mother takes the middle road, bringing her wand to rest at its end. There is a small explosion, and, when Sirius next looks at the tapestry, there is a small hole where Dromeda's name once lay embedded in the annals of history.

"May that be a lesson," she says, "to blood traitors past, present, and future."

Storing her wand away, Mother leaves the room, her robes brushing past Sirius. His father, brother, and cousins file out after her, but Sirius himself does not stir. When he is certain that they have all dispersed to their respective locations, he stands up and approaches the tapestry. He knows all of the names on it, of course -- Mother had made sure of that when he was younger -- but the names he knows best are those that are no longer there. They are the others, the banished, the examples, the ones Mother mentions with a curl in her lip and the hint of a threat. _Stray, my dear son, and this will be your fate; it is not that you will be forgotten but, rather, that you will have never existed at all._

Sirius reaches up to touch the singed edges of Mother's handiwork, and he thinks of Andromeda. He thinks of her blush as she told him of her engagement, the gentle trembling in her voice as she exposed for him the idiocy of pureblood ideology, how she drew close him to her as she realized that she must make her exit. He wonders where she lives now, what she will do with her life, if she and Ted will be happy together, and it is with an unexpected sadness that he knows -- knows with more certainty than he has ever felt -- that she will be the happiest.

Compared to that, not existing seems hardly a matter at all.


End file.
